


Matchmakers

by mneiai



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Pre-World of Warcraft: Legion, Tyrajin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: The Loa work in mysterious ways.





	Matchmakers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Tyrajin trash.
> 
> Per usual, not beta'd, partially written on a phone, sorry for typos.
> 
> You can find me at [manyangledone on Tumblr](http://manyangledone.tumblr.com) if you want to talk the fics, ships, lore, etc. or do some 1x1 RPing of canon chars.

“I be needing to have a word wit’ my guards.” Vol’jin’s sudden words surprised those milling around the Warchief and they followed his gaze, tensing at the figure standing in the doorway. Sylvanas had been about to leave, but even she hadn’t noticed the new addition yet.

They was wearing a large hood and a cloak, though their height and girth ruled out most of the Horde’s races. Outlined by the sun as they were, it was hard to make out more than the most basic details--leather armor, a bow and quiver at their back, along with a small travelling pack.

“Don’t be too harsh, you know I’m good at getting around.” The stranger’s voice was male sounding, their Orcish perfect. 

Sylvanas frowned, she’d assumed from their build they might be one of her people, but they were clearly not. And she couldn’t miss the affection that was clear in Vol’jin’s voice, so rare to hear when he wasn’t talking to an old friend like Go’el. 

“If ya be an assassin here for me, I’d be dead already.”

“If I’d been an assassin, I would probably have chosen somewhere I could kill you and escape from,” the other’s voice was reasonable, amused, and had just as much affection. 

Vol’jin motioned for him to approach and the stranger did, steps silent and precise. They didn’t stop until they were within touching distance of Vol’jin and it was he that reached up and pushed the hood from the stranger’s head, clearly amused at the surprised noises around them when the living human underneath was revealed.

“Here I be thinking I never be getting a visit. Ya shoulda sent word, there be no need to sneak around dese lands.”

The man shrugged. “There are still spies, I didn’t want to be held up.”

One of Vol’jin’s hands fell back to his lap, the other skirting over the man’s shoulder, down his arm, until he was loosely gripping his hand. Sylvanas couldn’t take her eyes away from that, trying to remember any time, with anyone, she'd seen Vol’jin holding hands. 

“And what be bringing ya to me so urgent like?”

“Your Loa won’t leave me alone. I haven’t gotten a single good night’s sleep all month.” He shrugged. “They’ve finally worn me down.”

Vol’jin’s eyes had widened as he spoke, his hand on the man’s tightening noticeably. “They be sending ya to me? Bwonsamdi, maybe, he be fond of ya.”

That made the audience look at the human in a new light--for one of the trolls’ gods to be ‘fond’ of a human, especially the Loa of the Dead, Sylvanas didn't even know what they had to have done. She mentally added this man to her list of those she'd very much like in her forces, if he were to die around her.

“Whoever it is, I’m hoping they’ll leave me alone now that I’m here.” 

The man looked around, eyes still and calculating as they met Sylvanas’, then moved on to the others. A hunter, definitely, most likely one who had carried out a number of assassinations in his time. 

Vol’jin seemed to notice that no one else but the two of them had moved and he leaned back in his throne. “Dis be Tyrathan Khort. He be a personal guest of da Warchief.” His eyes narrowed at the assembled people, most high up within their respective ranks, though Sylvanas and Lor’themar were the only leaders there. “No harm is ta be coming ta him while he’s here. Ya all be letting ya people know.”

He waved his free hand, dismissing them. Sylvanas lingered, waiting to be the last to leave, hoping to catch some other information, but the two were silently regarding each other the whole time.

***

“Dese dreams, dey be daunting things?” Vol’jin finally asked as the last of his people filed out.

Tyrathan nodded. “They’re...all of them have been of you DYING.”

Vol’jin’s eyes widened and he stood, leading Tyrathan through to his rooms so they could have more privacy. Not only was this a conversation that would be important, he knew, but it had been so long since he’d seen Tyrathan he couldn’t help but feel possessive of their time together.

“Dat be worrying.” He didn’t question Tyrathan’s claim they came from the Loa, he’d had just enough experience with them to be able to tell the difference and knew his own mind well enough, too. “Dey all be different?”

“No. Well, yes, but I think they all have the same source.” Tyrathan stepped away from Vol’jin, pacing around the room, taking in all the potential exits and hiding places. “Each one seems to have something to do with the Burning Legion.”

Crouching, Vol’jin watched Tyrathan, nodding. “Dat be making da most sense, wit da battles approaching.”

“Why would they show ME that?” Tyrathan stopped in front of him, frowning down at him.

“Because dey be thinking ya be saving me? Or because dey be needing you nearby when I be dying?” He thought it would be the first, Tyrathan had saved his life many times in the past, even the Loa would know he had a knack for it. 

Tyrathan seemed to be processing that and Vol’jin took the time to lead him into the bedroom. “Ya be needing sleep, dat be obvious. Ya about to pass out.” 

He helped Tyrathan out of his outer clothing, not missing the slight tremors of exhaustion going through the man. That he’d been stubborn and waited too long wasn’t surprising, humans weren’t used to listening to the Loa, but Vol’jin hoped from now on they could avoid such things. 

“I be goin’ to take care of a few tings, then I be returning to ya,” Vol’jin assured him as he pulled a soft fur up around him.

***

Tyrathan awoke refreshed for the first time in recent memory. He’d slept deeply with not a single dream (or vision) interrupting it.

He stayed still, breathing barely changing, and accessed where he was--Vol’jin’s room, still, from the smell and the air currents. With Vol’jin beside him in the bed, one long arm wrapped around him. He was disconcerted that he hadn’t woken up when Vol’jin returned, no matter how tired he was that should have woken him.

“Ya be thinking too hard,” Vol’jin muttered, turning onto his back and pulling Tyrathan to rest on top of him. 

He turned his head, resting his cheek on Vol’jin’s chest, staring at the windows. “I’m in the middle of Orgrimmar, in bed with the Horde’s Warchief. Most people would argue I hadn’t thought this through enough.”

Vol’jin snorted, squeezing his arms around him. “Dat I be glad for. If I be dying soon, I want to be spending my last days with ya.”

“Oh, no, you are not dying anytime soon.”

“Den ya better be staying and seeing to dat.”

“...Is this all some plot you hatched with the Loa to get me to stay with you?”

Laughing, Vol’jin shook his head, his entire body shaking with his mirth. “If only dat be a possibility! I’d be having ya here long before!” 

He shifted to press a kiss to the side of Tyrathan’s head, hands running over his exposed skin and reminding him of how intimate their position was.

“...Think you can get someone else to take over your duties for the day?”

“I be liking da way ya be thinking.”


End file.
